


Courage

by The_Marauder_Named_Prongs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: FTM Castiel, Kid!Fic, M/M, Trans!Castiel, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6879550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs/pseuds/The_Marauder_Named_Prongs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets a phone call. Dean makes a phone call. Dean's life changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Courage

Dean was elbows-deep in an old Buick when his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He didn’t take calls while he was at work – his fingers were almost always covered in grease and he didn’t need to give Bobby a reason to holler at him. But the calls kept coming, like someone was hanging up at voicemail and redialing over and over until Dean couldn’t stand it for another moment. He sighed in frustration, walking away from the Buick to wash the grease from his hands. Whoever this was, Dean wasn’t about to ruin his phone for them.

“Yeah?” he groused as he put the phone to his ear. It wasn’t even a number he knew.

“Hey, Dean-o,” came a cheery, annoying voice Dean recognized all too well. “You busy or something?”

Dean groaned. What the fuck. “How’d you know?” he said dryly. “You only called seventeen times. The hell do you want?”

“Money, honestly,” Gabriel Novak said in that characteristic way he had where it was impossible to tell if he was joking. Dean knew from experience that he generally wasn’t. He was getting really fucking annoyed.

“Fuck off, Gabe. I’m at work."

“Oh, good. You’ve definitely got some money then,” Gabriel said.

Dean let a beat of silence tick by, his jaw set tightly. “Seriously. What the hell do you want?” Dean said, angry now.

“You,” Gabriel said emphatically, sounding angry himself now, “owe Cassie money. At least three hundred bucks." 

Dean’s pulse pounded in his ears just hearing that name. “Fuck the hell off, you dick.” Dean slammed the end call button hard, feeling the overwhelming urge to chuck his phone across the garage. But it was buzzing again before he had the chance. Same number. Dean ignored it and turned off his phone, shoving it into his pocket and taking his anger out on the busted up Buick.

* * *

He didn’t turn his phone back on until late that night, needing it for his morning alarm. Surprisingly, he had no voicemails. Texts, however, Dean had quite a few. The important ones – from fucking Gabriel – contained a lot of cusses, more demands for money – and Castiel’s phone number.

Dean had deleted Castiel’s phone number months ago, and it had gone out of service months before that. Dean had hoped foolishly that it would turn back on one day, but it never did. And now, here Dean was with Castiel’s new number at his fingertips. What the hell was Gabriel up to?

Dean didn’t sleep well that night, haunted by that message. He should delete it, he told himself. It would save him a lot of shit. But by the time he left work the next day, he had looked at it at least a few dozen times. He had even gotten so far as to make a new contact with it before wising up and deleting it. At least Gabriel hadn’t called him again.

It was eleven at night and Dean was sitting in bed, the little blue text bubble filled with digits staring up at him in the dark of his room. Dean had them memorized by lunch. He didn’t even need to keep the message to do something stupid anymore.

The minutes ticked by, and Dean kept closing out of the message just to open it back up again. This was torture. He should just fucking call it. Hell, it probably wasn’t even real. Gabriel was just fucking with him. Nearly a year, and Dean was still paying for this shit.

“Fuck it,” he intoned a moment later, pressing on the number and hitting the call button. He wasn’t surprised when it started to ring. He felt the blood drain from his face when it connected.

“Hello?" 

Dean didn’t know how he could have no blood left in his face when his ears were pounding so loudly. 

“Hello? Who is this?” 

He sounded different from what Dean remembered – his voice was lower, scratchy with sleep – but Dean would still recognize it anywhere. Gabriel hadn’t given him a false number. Dean couldn’t quite believe it.

“Cas,” he breathed finally, his voice tense. He coughed weakly. “Hey, man.”

The silence that met him was the tensest of Dean’s entire life. Then finally – “Who gave you this number?” His voice didn’t sound scratchy any longer. It sounded deep and loud and angry.

“Your brother,” Dean winced. “He, uh. He said I owed you money. Blew up my phone for an entire day, dude. I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

Another silence. Dean shouldn’t have called. What the hell was he thinking. “He, uh, was probably just being a dick. Because you know. Gabe is Gabe. I shouldn’t have called,” Dean said in a rush, his voice going tight again.

Silence still. Why didn’t Dean just hang up? What was he doing? He pulled the phone from his ear to see if maybe Castiel had hung up and he’d missed the ending beeps because his ears were still roaring like fucking river rapids. He hadn’t missed anything.

“Gabriel is a dick,” Castiel finally said. “But not technically wrong.”

“Huh?” Dean said stupidly, blinking and pulling his full attention back to the conversation. He willed his heart to chill the fuck out.

“You do owe me money,” Castiel reiterated. “Technically.”

It hadn’t made sense the first time, and Dean was unsurprised to find it didn’t make sense the second time either. “For what?” he blurted.

A beat of silence. “For Mary.”

Dean felt his brow rumple in confusion. “What’s Mary?” he asked, wracking his brain for some hint at what the hell Castiel was talking about.

He heard a heavy sigh crackle through the phone. “Mary’s my daughter,” Castiel said, and the words sounded as heavy as lead. “Your daughter,” he clarified.

Dean's jaw gaped. “You’re shitting me.” There was no way, _no way_ that was true. Castiel wouldn’t have had a child. Hell, they had only done that a few times, hardly at all. Castiel hadn’t been particularly fond of it, and honestly Dean hadn’t either. There was no _way_. His phone buzzed, and Dean blinked, pulling it from his ear.

A text. A photo. A pink bow in a wisp of pitch-dark hair. A wide smile beneath a tiny nose. And green, green eyes.

The phone was making noise again – Castiel was speaking. Dean felt numb as he raised the phone back to his ear.

“- three months old. I probably should have told you, but you’re an asshole, so.”

“That’s my kid?” Dean said stupidly, his fingers tingling where they wrapped too tightly around the phone.

Another heavy sigh. “Yes, Dean. That’s your kid.”

“And you – you had her? You like – carried her?” Dean was having a hard time processing. Her name was _Mary_ for god’s sake.

“Well, I certainly didn’t find her on the street,” Castiel deadpanned.

Dean winced. He couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Castiel. The looks he must have gotten. The shit people must have said to him. The dysphoria. And he’d done it alone.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Dean asked weakly, not even angry – how could he be angry? He had no right.

“Maybe eventually. Not anytime soon.”

Dean winced again. It was harsh but deserved. “And now that I know...?” he trailed off, unsure if he had the right to ask something like that. Regardless of what happened between Castiel and Dean (what Dean did), the kid was still his. That gave him rights, didn’t it?

“You want to meet her.” It wasn’t a question.

Dean’s mouth felt dry and his skin felt damp. “Yeah,” he said quietly, pulling the phone away for a short moment to see the photo again. Yeah, Dean definitely wanted to meet her. 

“Alright.”

“Really?” Dean was surprised by how readily and easily Castiel had agreed. Dean had expected at least a bit of resistance.

“Yes. You ruined our relationship. That doesn’t mean you can’t have one with your child,” Castiel said, the words clinical, dry. “I won’t keep her from her father any longer.”

Dean’s thoughts took off. He had no idea where Castiel lived anymore, not since he picked up and ran months back. His phone buzzed again. Another text, this one containing an address. At least Castiel was still in Kansas.

“You may see her whenever you like,” Castiel said, his voice distant as Dean stared at the text and the photo again.

“I can come pick her up?” Dean asked, tapping the phone onto speaker so he could keep looking at his daughter’s face. “Take her for a day or something?”

“Pick her up? No.” The response came immediately, laced with anger. “No, if you’re going to see her, you’ll do it here.” Dean was too surprised by the vehemence to reply. “I’m not going to just hand her over to you.”

“Okay,” Dean said defensively, stemming the flow of Castiel’s anger before it grew larger. “Okay, I got it. Supervised visits only. Like prison.”

Even Castiel’s silence sounded angry. “You think you deserve more than that?” he said, his voice dangerous and low, even through the mechanical acoustics of the phone.

“Eventually, yeah,” Dean replied, his voice surprisingly even. Dean had always been the hothead out of the two of them. It was quite the role reversal to hear Castiel like this. Truthfully, he felt a little queasy just thinking about seeing Castiel again, about going to his home.

“Then we’ll revisit the matter eventually,” Castiel said with finality in his tone.

Another long silence had Dean fidgeting with his pillow uncomfortably. “So,” he said when Castiel didn’t hang up after a whole minute of silence. “When can I see her?” he asked.

“You may come this weekend,” Castiel said, his voice controlled. Dean knew he was still angry, for God knows how many reasons. “Noon on Saturday.”

And that was it. Castiel said goodbye and hung up, leaving Dean stunned and overloaded. Holy _shit_.

* * *

When Dean parked on the curb outside of the address Castiel had sent him, he was nervous for a hell of a lot of reasons. His hands were sweaty as he took his key from the ignition and pocketed it. The house was small, an off-white ranch style home, probably with no more than five small rooms inside, set back a good ten yards from the road. It looked fitting for a single parent with only one kid.

Dean knocked on the door, trying to wipe his sweaty hands off on his jeans before Castiel answered it. The last thing he needed was damp, clammy hands the first time he held his daughter. 

The door opened nearly a full minute later. Dean’s words were lodged in his throat at the sight of Castiel. He looked tired, sure, but he looked good too. His shoulders were broader than what Dean remembered, and even though he wasn’t smiling, he looked handsome as ever.

“Hello, Dean,” he said, his expression as neutral as his tone.

Dean swallowed nervously, wiping his hands again. “Hi,” he said and froze. What the hell was he supposed to say? It took him a moment too long to realize the baby was in Castiel’s arms. Dean had been so preoccupied with relearning Castiel’s face – until Castiel’s brow had risen in question, and his gaze led Dean down to the infant in his arms. Dean stared at her until Castiel stepped back, and invited Dean in.

Dean stepped over the threshold, smiling forcibly at Castiel. Even seeing his daughter for the first time couldn’t distract Dean from how uncomfortable he felt here. This was Castiel’s house – his _home_. Dean felt acutely out of place here, and he hated it. If things had gone differently, if Dean had done things differently, this house probably would have been his home too.

It was a nice little place, too. It was well kept and sparsely decorated, more evidence of the child’s presence than Castiel’s scattered about the place. Dean could hardly force himself to take two steps into the place.

“Can I see her?” he said when Castiel didn’t readily hand Mary over. He glanced up at Castiel as he held out open hands.

Castiel nodded, situating her carefully in Dean’s arms, tucking her purple giraffe blanket in around her sides. Dean’s eyes were glued to his daughter, taking in her dark hair and her fat cheeks, her green eyes and little pudgy hands. She was older than she had been in the picture Castiel had sent him. She had more hair now. She was awake, but quietly curious, looking at Dean as if she were trying to determine his character. It was stupid and irrational, but Dean hoped she didn’t find him lacking. “Hey,” he whispered to her, glancing up at Castiel, unable to stop himself from smiling.

Castiel took a step back then, as if realizing he was hovering. And then he turned away, stepping further into the house and crossing the living room. Dean glanced up and saw him organizing toys at the far end of the room.

Dean almost felt guilty for how much easier he breathed when Castiel wasn’t standing directly beside him. He smiled and rocked the child gently in his arms, letting her fingers curl around his thumb. “Sorry we never met before now,” he whispered, moving her tiny hand gently with his thumb. He turned his back on the living room, wanting privacy for himself and Mary, if only for a moment. “I didn’t know about you,” he murmured, feeling emotion lodge itself in his throat. “I’m real sorry about that, baby girl.” He fell silent as he swallowed around the lump in his throat, trying to clear it before he did something stupid like cry. “I’m your daddy, baby girl. I know – I know you already got one of those, but you have two,” he said, rubbing her hand with his thumb. “That’s pretty cool, right?”

Dean made the mistake of rotating slowly as he rocked her. He looked up and caught Castiel watching them with a frown. Dean remembered how out of place he was here in Castiel’s home. Castiel was less than a room’s width away from him and Dean had never felt more unwelcome and uncomfortable anywhere in his life. It was insane, he thought, tearing his gaze away from Castiel. Not all that long ago, Dean would have considered Castiel more of a home than any place had ever been, but now, standing just inside of Castiel’s house, Dean felt like an intruder.

“You can come in,” Castiel said then, and Dean’s head shot up, their eyes connecting. “You’re welcome to sit,” he said, gesturing towards the couch only ten feet away from Dean.

Dean looked at the couch, at Castiel, and then back to Mary. Castiel just wanted him to hold the baby safely, to sit rather than risk dropping her, but Dean didn’t think he could do it. He didn’t belong here. Yet he couldn’t leave, not now when he had just met the child he never knew he had. So he stayed where he was, holding the child not a yard away from the front door, running his thumb over her fingers and trying not to cry.

“I’ll give you some space,” Castiel said a long moment later, and when Dean looked up, Castiel was standing in the entryway to another room – the kitchen. “You can have some time alone with her.” He gestured to the couch again and then disappeared around the corner. 

Dean took a long, slow breath. Without Castiel in the room, he didn’t feel like he was drowning anymore. He carried Mary to the couch, sitting and propping her up in his arm, his elbow crooked on the arm of the couch. He didn’t know what else to say to her, but he figured just holding her and watching her was enough for now. She was asleep in moments. Dean had no idea how he was ever supposed to leave her.

“Lunch is ready,” came Castiel’s voice from the entryway to the kitchen a long while later.

Dean looked up at him. “She’s sleeping,” he said quietly.

“Then you can eat while she sleeps,” Castiel replied, walking into the room and setting a plate with a sandwich on it beside Dean’s arm. “Peanut butter and strawberry jam,” he said. “I assume it’s still your favorite.”

Dean stared at the sandwich, then looked up at Castiel. His face gave nothing away. Dean knew his own must be an open fucking book. His throat felt too dry again as he carefully reached for half of the sandwich, not wanting to wake Mary. “Thank you,” he rasped and took a bite.

Castiel placed a bottle down near Dean’s side and disappeared back into the kitchen without another word, leaving Dean to eat the sandwich he’d made – Dean’s favorite fucking kind – with his daughter sleeping in his arm. In that moment, Dean felt acutely how seriously he’d fucked this all up.

Mary woke not long after Dean finished the sandwich, fussing tiredly as Dean grabbed her bottle from where Castiel had set it for him. He glanced up, surprised Castiel hadn’t returned yet. “Hey, baby girl,” he cooed gently as he propped Mary up in his arm and gave her the bottle. She quieted completely, her eyes drooping as she suckled at it, and before long, she was out again. Dean pulled the half-finished bottle from between her tiny lips and set it aside.

He readjusted on the couch, knowing he shouldn’t, knowing it wasn’t right because this was where Castiel lived and Dean didn’t belong here, but he couldn’t stop himself. His arms were tired, and his baby was sleeping. He shifted sideways, propping his boots up on the arm of the couch so he could lay down with her. He propped her up on his chest and watched her tiny form rise and fall as they breathed. Dean thought it might be the best experience of his life.

Dean had no idea how much time passed while he laid on Castiel’s couch and watched his daughter sleep, his fingers petting softly against her dark hair – Castiel’s hair. She was truly a combination of the two of them, and Dean vehemently regretted that he had already missed so much of her life.

Castiel entered the room again just as Dean started thinking about all the other regrets he couldn’t quite ignore. Castiel moved around quietly, like he was an expert at getting things done while the baby slept. He picked up her bottle and Dean’s plate, and Dean looked at him and apologized quietly, unwilling to move until Mary woke up.

“For what?” Castiel whispered.

“I’m laying on your couch,” Dean murmured back, surprised that Castiel even had to ask. “And my boots are still on.”

“Gabriel does worse,” Castiel said with a shrug. “And Mary isn’t exactly cleanly. I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t mean _I_ should be doing it,” Dean replied. He had knocked Castiel up and broken his heart after all. It was a little crazy that Dean was even still here.

“I forgave you for all of this a long time ago, Dean,” Castiel sighed heavily, and Dean wasn’t sure what ‘all of this’ was, but he could make a few guesses. “You don’t need to blame yourself for the rest of your life."

“I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for any of this,” Dean replied honestly after a moment, his hand pausing on Mary’s back as his full attention shifted to Castiel.

Castiel was shaking his head, and Dean frowned. “You should,” Castiel said, but it was hardened, uncomforting. “You’ll only make yourself miserable.” And then he disappeared into the kitchen once more, leaving Dean feeling like shit.

Dean looked at his daughter, watching her breathe for a long time as his mind wandered – to Castiel, to their break up, to all the time in between, to Mary and the fact that he had to leave her. He pressed a hand to his eyes as he thought about having to hand her over to Castiel and drive away, unable to see her again until God only knew when. Fuck, he thought, as his eyes began to tear up.

“Dean?”

Dean looked up in surprise, wiping at his eyes and trying not to jostle the baby. He blinked up at the ceiling and tried to ignore the fact that Castiel was right there, watching him cover up his tears. “I’m fine,” he lied.

Castiel sighed, sounding closer when he spoke again. “Dean, it’s fine. You’re allowed to be emotional.”

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean sighed, still looking at the ceiling. “I’m not emotional.”

“Okay, you’re not emotional,” Castiel replied dryly. “But it’s okay if you are. I would have been surprised if you weren’t, meeting your daughter for the first time.”

Dean bit his lip, finally looking to Castiel. “It’s a lot more than that,” he said quietly, and Castiel winced before schooling his feature into something passive.

“I’m not mad at you, Dean. I told you, I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. I know you want me to be mad because that’s easier for you to understand, but I’m not,” Castiel said, leaning against the arm of the couch Dean’s boots were propped up against.

“That doesn’t fix anything,” Dean told him, defeated. “I still missed everything. I still dumped you because I was scared. I still missed your pregnancy, Cas, and that couldn’t have been easy, and – and the birth of my child.”

Castiel pushed away from the couch again, crossing his arms. “You can’t fix any of that,” he said, his voice hard. “There’s no point talking about it. You’re here now. Mary clearly adores you. Just focus on your future with her.” He had paced away as he spoke, as if to hide in the kitchen again. Dean wished he wouldn’t.

“My future with her is entirely in your hands,” Dean said, almost challengingly because he hated the way Castiel was hiding. Dean had no right to, but he did.

“I already told you that I won’t keep her from you anymore. You can see her as often as you like,” Castiel replied.

“If that were true,” Dean said, turning back to Mary. “I’d never leave.”

“I have a guest room,” Castiel said, and Dean turned sharply in response, unable to gauge his tone.

“Don’t fuck with me like that, Cas,” Dean retorted, his voice too harsh, too loud.

“I’m not fucking with you,” Castiel said, stepping back into the room as Mary began to stir. “You’re her father. You deserve as much time with her as you want.”

“Yeah?” Dean quieted his voice, rubbing a hand against Mary’s back to soothe her. “And what about you? Don’t pretend we could be just dandy living together after the shit we’ve gone through."

Castiel looked angry when Dean looked at him, but he bit his tongue on whatever he wanted to say to Dean. “I’d be fine,” he said eventually. “It’s up to you, Dean. The offer was real.” He leaned down to take Mary off of Dean’s chest, tucking her up in his arms and rocking her.

Dean sat up then, his boots planted back on the floor. He pushed himself up onto his feet. The spell – whatever it might or might not have been – was broken as soon as Mary was pulled from his arms. “I should get out of here,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

Castiel nodded, looking up at Dean. “I was serious, Dean. You can see her whenever you like. Just let me know.”

“Sure thing,” Dean said, his pulse beginning to pound loudly in his ears. He took a few backwards steps towards the door. “Thanks for, uh, letting me met her,” he said, feeling uncomfortable as hell all over again. 

“Aren’t you going to say goodbye to her?” Castiel asked, stepping forward.

Dean took a step back. “N-no,” he said as his head began to hurt. He couldn’t stop thinking of all of his mistakes, of the fact that they had culminated in this moment where he must leave his daughter behind with the man he loved because he’d given this up out of stupid, stupid fear. He wondered if this was what a panic attack felt like. He couldn’t stay here, so he had to leave, but leaving made him feel like he was going to vomit. He had to get out of here quickly. “I’ll – yeah, we’ll set something up,” he said, reaching back and fumbling with the doorknob.

“You don’t have to go,” Castiel’s voice drifted over to him, managing to get through all the noise in his head. When Dean looked up, Castiel was closer. “You can stay, Dean. You can stay with Mary. Please.” He looked… he looked like he was feeling something for the first time since Dean arrived. “Please, don’t go.”

“No,” Dean said again, closing his eyes as his head ached worse. “No, I don’t belong here.”

“You belong here,” Castiel replied and he sounded angry. “You belong with your daughter and you belong with me. Of course you belong here.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Dean said vehemently, his hands sweaty as hell again. “I fucked this up, Cas. You said so yourself.” His own voice made his head hurt worse, but he kept on talking. “You told me to get over it. But I can’t. I ruined us, and now you don’t love me anymore, and I have to leave Mary.”

“Are you kidding me?” Castiel said harshly. He was hardly a foot away from Dean when he opened his eyes. “I love you more than anything, Dean. I never stopped loving you. I forgave you because it was the only way I could keep myself sane. But I couldn’t stop loving you if I tried, and I did try.”

Dean could hardly make sense of what was happening here. “You don’t want me here for you,” he insisted, frowning. “You want me to be around for Mary. I can’t be around for Mary if you’re here too. I can’t do that.”

Castiel shook his head. “You’re not listening,” he said, frustrated. “I _love_ you. I am in love with you. I never stopped, Dean. I want you to stay for _me_ because I _need_ you.”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You told me I couldn’t fix this,” he said weakly.

“Because I was angry!” Castiel said, turning away and laying Mary down on the blanket spread across the center of the floor. He came back to Dean then, getting so close. “I wanted to be able to do this without you,” he said, his voice broken with emotion. “But I can’t. Please, Dean. Don’t walk out on me again.”

Dean’s hand slipped off the doorknob. Watching Castiel’s eyes well with tears was too much to handle on top of everything else. “Please tell me this is real,” he murmured, stepping forward. 

“Of course this is real,” Castiel said, wiping at his eyes. “I want you here. With me and our daughter.”

“Cas, this is insane,” Dean said, a nervous laugh breaking through the lump in his throat. “You – Jesus, you had my _kid_ , Cas. And you tried to do it all by yourself, you stubborn son of a bitch.” Dean shook his head, the throbbing at his temples dulling as his heart rate finally slowed. “I love you so much, Cas. You have no idea. And – this is all my fault. I was so _scared_ of how I felt about you. I felt like I’d never be good enough for you, I’d never really be what you needed. I was a fucking coward, Cas. It was easier to let you go than to disappoint you – or, I thought it was. I fucked up so bad.”

“You were a coward,” Castiel confirmed, glaring and wiping a tear from his cheek. “And you were an idiot to think you weren’t good enough. You were the biggest support system I had. You were the most important thing in my life, you dick.” A bubble of laughter erupted through the tears then, and Castiel reached out, grabbing Dean’s arms. “Just fix it,” he begged. “Come back. Love me again. And – and love Mary, Dean. That’s all I want.”

“I can do that,” Dean promised fiercely, raising his hands to frame Castiel’s jaw, his thumbs wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I can be better.”

Castiel leaned in and Dean caught his lips in a gentle kiss, letting his fingers slide up into his hair. It was surreal, touching Castiel again after so long.

Dean rested his forehead against Castiel’s when they separated. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to go through all of this alone.”

Castiel looked over his shoulder at where Mary was kicking her little feet into the air on her blanket, her clumsy hands reaching for her toes. “It wasn’t so bad,” he murmured. “Not once she got here.” He turned back to Dean with a grin. “You should have seen me,” he laughed, wiping his nose against the back of his hand. “I got so fat, Dean. Like my face and everything. I think I pulled off just being a fat guy until like seven months.”

Dean kissed his cheek, smiling with him. “I’m sure you have pictures,” he said, taking his hand and threading their fingers together, tugging him back into the room so they could sit beside their daughter on the floor. “You can tell me all about it,” he offered, reaching out and letting Mary claim his finger in her tiny hand again. “The good and the bad. I’m not going anywhere this time,” he promised.


End file.
